


Hometown Boys

by peggy_lane



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggy_lane/pseuds/peggy_lane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's the best used car salesman in his small Texas town. Jensen's the surly mechanic who manages the shop at the dealership. It takes some time, but Jared brings him around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hometown Boys

Jim doesn't bother giving out a plaque anymore for Salesman of the Month, but Jared's picture stays up on the Facebook page with a nice caption. The photo's pretty standard: he's sitting at his plain undecorated desk, wearing a white polo with the company logo on his chest, and looking straight into the camera. His hair is combed down and gelled within an inch of its life; his smile is big but fake.

It's the seventh month in a row he's had the honor. There are only three other salespeople on staff so it's not like it's a huge accomplishment. Jared mostly just feels embarrassed about it. He doesn't want to be the kind of stereotypical used car salesman who boasts about being the best. There's something innately slimy about it – the business and the profession – that's hard to shake, even though that cliché doesn't really apply. _Bluejacket Motor Company_ is family-owned and specializes in selling quality pre-owned vehicles to the good people of their small Texas town. They're not in the business of screwing anybody over. Still. "I'm the best used car salesman out of four" isn't exactly bragging rights as far as Jared's concerned.

Nobody who's ever met him is surprised Jared excels at his job. Variations of "that boy always was a talker," and "say what you will about Jared, but he was never short on charm," seem to be most people's take on it.

Richard's never come anywhere close to Salesman of the Month and couldn't care less. He's married to the boss's daughter so he mostly bides his time and tries not to piss off his father-in-law too much.

"Just got back from the shop," he tells Jared over lunch. "They made that old Chevy Juarez brought in hum again."

"They do good work."

"Ackles was there," Richard says, his tone bone dry. "Charming as ever."

Jared focuses on his Big Mac and nods. There was never any love lost between Jensen and Richard as far as he can tell. And it's true enough - Jensen Ackles really isn't much of a charmer. Not that he needs to be with that face.

"It's gotta sting," Richard continues. "Working for the man when he used to _be_ the man."

"I'm sure you mentioned that to him," Jared says around a mouthful of fries.

"Yeah, I can be kind of a dick that way."

Jared shakes his head and sucks Diet Coke through the straw like it's life's blood. "Seems like he's had a rough year," is all he says.

"You're not trying to sell him a car, dude. No need to shed a tear."

"Thought I was just pointing out the obvious."

"Nah, you're right." Richard pushes back from the table and heads out, leaving his fast food wrappers on the table for Jared to throw away. "Only an asshole would kick a man when he's down."

Richard couldn't sound more delighted with himself.

"And you're just the asshole for the job."

________

In the few months since Jensen was hired on as lead mechanic, all Jared's got from him are grunted hellos and “yeah, I'll take some coffee if it's made” on the rare occasion they're in the break room at the same time. Nothing to hang his hat on. Not that he wants to. Hang his hat. Fuck. Something about Jensen always did make Jared go stupid, feel stupid.

Next time they have an intake, Jared makes a point of driving it around himself. They keep a clean shop; Jim's got kind of a thing about it, actually, that seems to suit Jensen fine. Despite the kind of work he does, Jared's never seen him really dirty, stripped down to a muscle shirt, dark and damp with grease and sweat.

Maybe he's thought about it once or twice.

No, Jensen is dressed, as always, in blue (possibly ironed) slacks and a striped short-sleeved button-up that sports the company logo. Like Jared, he's branded property of _Bluejacket Motor Company_. Jared's fine with that. Nobody's really sure if Jensen's made his peace with it.

"What've you got for me, Padalecki?" Jensen asks when Jared steps out of the '98 CRV.

"Lamborghini."

Jensen wipes his hands on a dirty shop rag and looks it over. "Nice," he says, drawing out the word. "I bet this baby can go zero to sixty in, what? Five minutes?"

Jared laughs, probably more than the comment deserves, but he's surprised Jensen's playing along, even a little. Maybe he's starting to loosen up.

"You have to admit it's a step up from the '78 Pinto I brought in last month," Jared says.

"Sucker." Jensen shakes his head. "A used car salesman and a sucker, that's some contradiction."

"I unloaded it, didn't I?" Jared reminds him. "At a profit."

"Only after I performed a minor miracle on that engine," Jensen replies, but he's already distracted, popping the hood and running his hand along the curve of the vehicle before pulling over the cables he'll need to do a full diagnostic. "I should have an estimate for you in twenty."

Jared's been thoroughly dismissed and he can see how Jensen brings out Richard's more dickish instincts. He crooks his head to the side and stares at Jensen's ass for longer than is, strictly speaking, polite, before leaving him to his job.

________

Bluejacket, Texas only has one high school, but it's a pretty big one and it’s got a good football program. There are two movie theatres; the bigger one has six screens now. There's a main street and a Wal-Mart and a public pool. There's a community college on the east side, out beyond the feed store and the old railroad depot, that seems strangely removed from the rest of the town.

It's the kind of place where you may not know everybody, but you at least know _of_ everybody. And Jared has known of Jensen for as long as he can remember. He's a few years older than Jared, so they never really hung out together, back in school or afterward. They've both left town – for college, for work – and both returned. It's a pretty common story.

Jensen got divorced about a year ago, lost his shop out on Route 6 in the process. Jared never brought his cars there for service because it would have been out of the way, but the place had a good reputation.

Word is, Jensen's wife left him for a pharmaceutical rep out of Austin. They'd been married two years but she never really took to small town life. That's what everyone says, anyway.

________

Normally, _Shorty's_ is just a dingy too-big bar with a bunch of pool tables and line dancing on the weekends. Every now and then, some band comes through to play the small corner stage. Jared's not sure how such a nondescript place out in the middle of nowhere is on any kind of live music circuit. Then again, the acts that come through aren't going to be headlining in Nashville anytime soon, either.

He may have had some inkling Jensen would be there when he grabbed Katie and forced her to come with him to the Kane concert on Friday night. She'd rolled her eyes, said something about how Christian Kane isn't all that, but she came through. As usual.

"I'm trying to win a medal for world's best fag-hag, apparently," she whispers as they walk through the door.

Jared makes a face but doesn't say anything. She's well aware he hates that term. Hell, she hates it, too. Just uses it to piss him off. That's how they roll.

Chris is a local boy made good, or at least so-so, and a lot of people show up for him. Jared spots Jensen immediately, over by the stage, helping his friend set up. By the time the show starts, Jensen's at one of the front tables, bobbing his head to the music, nursing his beer, and exchanging words here and there with friends. Jared recognizes most of them from high school. They were the shit-kicking couldn't-care-less seniors back when Jared was a nervous freshman.

"You've got it pretty bad, huh?" Katie asks, close and low in his ear, when the band takes a break.

Jared cringes. He supposes she's right but it's the first time he's really admitted it, even to himself.

"I barely even know the guy," he tells her.

"Sometimes you don't have to," she says as she takes a long pull off her beer and tries to catch the cute bartender’s eye. "Sometimes a pretty face and a broody fuck-all demeanor is all it takes."

Jared likes to think he's not as shallow as all that. And that maybe there's more to Jensen, too. But Katie probably has a point. She usually does.

________

"Saw you at the club the other night," Jensen says on Monday when Jared brings Shannon Wilson's Camry around for an oil change.

"Oh, yeah." Jared dips his head and scratches his fingernails along his nape. He feels like he's been caught at something, wants to shake himself for it.

"I was gonna come over and say hi," Jensen tells him. "Just got distracted."

"It looked like you were catching up with old friends," Jared says. "I didn’t want to interrupt."

"Yeah." Maybe it's Jared's imagination, but Jensen seems mildly uncomfortable. "I mean, I don't see Chris much these days, so..."

"They did a great job." Jared assumes they did, anyway. He hadn't really paid much attention.

Jensen nods and takes the keys. Jared's very careful not to let their fingers touch.

________

Betsy Roberts is something of an institution in town. She lives in a small white house just down the street from Jared's parents and he takes his turn every few weeks to help with her yard work. She's old but not ancient, ornery and stubborn as all get-out, and she hasn't quite come to terms with the fact that her entire family has moved on without her.

She was still in her forties when she put her husband in the ground, years ago. Later, Betsy saw her son and his young family off when they moved to San Antonio for work. The whole time, she was driving the same white '83 Buick Riviera. And that's nice, it's sentimental and all. But it's been on its last legs for a while now and it's not fit for her to drive the two hours to visit her grandkids. So when Jared finally manages to get her out of it and into an '06 Mercedes-S that he set aside just for her, it's kind of a big deal.

"Dude," he exclaims, throwing his arms up in victory.

Jensen's got a Tahoe on the lift and his head bent back so he can peer up at his work. He steps out to look at Jared and seems to bite back a smile.

"I take it the sell went through?"

"Boo-yah!" Jared does a dance best reserved for football players spiking the ball, only less graceful, and Jensen laughs.

It may be kind of patronizing, and Jared definitely pulled it from him through the most juvenile means possible. But, whatever. He put Betsy Roberts in the perfect car and made Jensen laugh. Not a bad day's work as far as Jared's concerned.

"Let's go get a beer," he blurts.

Jensen glances away and Jared decides to stand his ground.

What he keeps saying to Katie is: I don't even think Jensen's gay.

What Katie says back is: There's only one way to find out.

There are probably more ways than one, but Jared figures spending some time with the guy is a necessary first step.

"I've still got a lot to do," Jensen reminds him with a gesture toward the Tahoe.

"I mean later," Jared says. "My treat. We'll go over to _Rios_ after work."

Jensen's expression is clearly meant to convey _I'm thinking about it_ , but really means _I'm coming up with an excuse to say no_. Jared's a used car salesman, for Christ's sake. He's seen that look plenty – barreled right over it, too.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he says. "One beer."

"Fine," Jensen finally concedes with a nod.

Jared knows it's a reluctant yes. He tries not to take it personally. Hell, that's just Jensen.

________

As summer rolls around – Jared sweats like a mule, Jensen remains as starched and dry as ever – they become friends. A beer after work becomes the norm and they eat lunch together a couple of times a week. And. Okay, that's about it. You can become friends with someone and not really _know_ them, Jared thinks.

So they don't share much in the way of personal revelations, keeping it more to sports talk and shop gossip. But Jensen has a wicked, sly sense of humor, and he's loose and easy in Jared's company in a way he just isn't with most people. Jared's pretty sure that if the situation ever arose, Jensen would help him move on a Saturday. That's a definition of friendship.

Sometimes, Jared thinks Jensen looks at him in a way that's more than friendly. But he's not sure he can trust it. Jared's always had a vivid imagination.

He imagines, for instance, how it would have been to meet Jensen down in San Antonio, at one of the clubs. Jared drives there sometimes to "get his gay on." If he'd met Jensen at _The Bonham Exchange_ downtown, there wouldn’t have been any need for guess work. Jared would have stood at the bar, yelling over the noise and the crowd for a drink, and he’d look over to see Jensen walking toward him under the pulsing lights of the dance floor.

Jensen would check Jared out in the most obvious way possible; he’d lick his lips because Jared would be wearing something tight and thin to show off his muscles (the thick white polo he wears for work doesn’t cut it). And Jared's would-be response to Jensen, to that body, those eyes, that face, is a given. He’d be free to show his appreciation; maybe he'd suck in his bottom lip or just lean in close, but he'd be fucking transparent. Fearless. Jensen would step to him, run his fingers up Jared's arm, murmur something in his ear. Sometimes Jared imagines him saying something sweet and shy, sometimes just, "Let’s fuck."

Either way, they’d leave the club together – free and easy, no questions asked. But maybe it'd just be a one-night stand, maybe with a walk of shame after. He wouldn't know anything about who Jensen really is, wouldn't even have a chance to find out if they could manage more than one night.

But Jared knows Jensen now for real, or he's starting to, learning him by degrees. And maybe he wouldn’t trade that even for a sure thing. Jensen's kind of a slow burn, takes his time with everything. He's so precise with his work, so deliberate and focused. Turns out, that's just how he is, who he is. And Jared, who's not precise and not deliberate, finds him endlessly fascinating.

Well, maybe he wouldn't be so fascinating if he weren't also hot like a supernova. Jared has a bad habit of being a little too honest with himself.

________

Everything gets slow and lazy as summer wears on. The whole town seems to take on a pale yellowish hue, like an old stone washed out by the sun. At night, the air stays warm and still as the sky lights up with fireflies. Even Jensen in his tidy shop with its huge industrial fans breaks a sweat from time to time.

Jared stays late to help Jensen close up, even on nights when they don't plan on going out after. Sometime around July, he starts bringing a cooler full of beer with him that they drink right there in the shop. Only after hours, though. They are professionals.

"So, Katie?" Jensen asks. It's after eight o'clock and they've been finished for half an hour now. Jared's sitting on a countertop and Jensen's leaning against the wall by the big bay door while they throw back the last two standing from a six-pack.

Jensen leaves it at that. _So, Katie_. Jared throws him a curious look, but Jensen doesn't elaborate.

"Yeah?"

Jensen shrugs and looks down. "Things serious?"

"Rarely." As soon as the word leaves his mouth, Jared realizes what Jensen meant and rushes to clarify. "I mean, uh, it's not like that. We're friends." Is this an opening? Jared wonders as his pulse picks up speed. "Just friends."

How could Jensen not know that? Doesn't the whole town know? But Jared realizes even as the question comes to him that it's utter bullshit. He lets the town believe what they want about him and Katie, and she's happy to go along. She's not exactly bearding for him but the effect is largely the same. There's no reason for Jensen to come to any other conclusion.

Except that, well, Jared sort of thought they'd been flirting. Or something near enough to it to be noticeable. And that maybe Jensen would draw the right conclusion on his own. For the first time in his life, Jared has to wonder if maybe he's been too subtle.

Jensen pounds back the dregs of his beer and looks out the door to the parking lot. "Ah," he says. "Good to know."

"It is?"

And, no, Jared didn't mean for his voice to come out in such a pitiful squawk. Jensen's nice enough not to make the obvious Peter Brady joke. He just shrugs and doesn't answer, walks to the recycling bin to throw his bottle away, gesturing to the bottle Jared clutches in his hand. It's about a quarter full and Jared shakes his head.

Jensen's walk back from the bin brings him close, so of course Jared blurts out, "What about your wife?" _Of course he does_.

Jensen stills and turns to look at him.

"Wife?" His voice is low and plain, and fairly scary from where Jared's sitting.

"Um, I mean ex." Jared sets the bottle down. "Sorry. Never mind. Sorry"

Jensen shifts and presses his hip against the counter, leaning in sideways, doesn't move away, doesn't ignore him as Jared half-thought he might. But his jaw's set tight and he's crossing his arms over his chest and, well, Jared pretty much feels like shit about it.

"Seriously, man," he says. "Forget I said anything."

"No. What about her?" Jensen asks.

Jared feels like a reluctant student forced by the teacher to show his work. He swallows hard and bites the inside of his cheek, thinks of sliding down off the counter and simply walking away, but he remembers that he's a grown-ass man and not a child, so takes a deep breath and looks Jensen in the eye. For such pretty eyes, they can sure be cold.

"Are the rumors true?" He asks.

At Jensen’s raised brow, Jared clears his throat. "About her leaving you for that guy in Austin?"

Jensen straightens and starts to walk away, and Jared figures, well that's it: opportunity officially blown. But Jensen half-turns to him, his face caught in low-lit profile, and says, "No. The rumors aren't true."

A certain strained silence falls then Jensen faces Jared again, straight-on. "Sophia did me the biggest favor of my life by letting all the harpies and gossip-mongers in this town believe it, though,” he says.

"Oh." Jared feels terribly small. Confused. And maybe a little hopeful.

"Mark this day," Jensen says with a chuckle. "Somebody finally shut you up."

Jared grins. "Not for long, I'm sure."

"No, not for long." Jensen gestures with his head toward the door. "Let's get out of here."

Jared throws out his beer bottle and leaves the cooler behind when he follows Jensen out. It's dark enough that the street lights are on in the lot, but the slightest haze of pink is still visible on the horizon as the sun's light slowly slips away.

"Sorry if I was out of li-" Jared starts.

He's interrupted before he can finish the thought. By Jensen's movement as he pushes Jared against the cement wall, by the press of Jensen's body against his own. By Jensen's lips on his, Jensen's hand on his cock.

The sound that Jared makes, sort of a pitchy gargle of breath and a gasp, is too shocked and embarrassing to even acknowledge. He thinks: when I remember this, I'm going to forget I made that sound as he laughs into Jensen's mouth, open and wet against his own. Jensen seems oblivious to Jared's surprise, and his stupid little sound, and his laugh. He licks into Jared's mouth and palms Jared's cock through his khakis; Jared hasn't gone so hard so fast since he was a teenager, and pushes up against him. He can only hold on for dear life, his hands fisted in the loose fabric of Jensen's button-up shirt.

It occurs to Jared, in kind of an odd thoughtless way, that he might not get another chance at this. So there's some desperation in it when he kisses back, licking up to the roof of Jensen's mouth, pushing in, rolling their tongues together. He drops his hand, boldly, and undoes Jensen's fly, opens his eyes to make sure Jensen's okay with that. Jensen's eyes are open, too. Too close to be anything but a blur, but Jensen works open Jared's fly, and they press against each other, rubbing their cocks together.

Sweat rolls down Jared's back and pulls his shirt to his skin. He feels it dripping down his neck. Jensen shakes and pushes in and grunts into Jared's mouth. It's furtive and frantic, feels so goddamn good. Jared pulls Jensen to him, wraps his arms around him tight, and Jensen lets him. Jensen lets him.

Jensen works his hands down between them to finish them both off. Jared thinks they'd probably have come anyway, even without Jensen's hands on their dicks. There's more than a passing chance that Jared could get off just from the kissing. But Jensen seems impatient. He jerks fast, letting their pre-come slick them up, working his wrists and breaking the kiss to trail his lips, his tongue, along Jared's cheek, his jawline, down to his neck. Jared just wraps him up tighter. Don't fuck this up, he thinks. Don't you dare fuck this up, Padalecki.

They come together with a messy jerk, their come coating Jensen's hands, sticky on their bellies, dampening their clothes. Wow. That's all Jared can really come up with. Wow. He holds Jensen close because he sure as hell isn't going to be the first to let go. No fucking way.

Jensen doesn't pull back, and his voice rumbles against the warm skin of Jared's neck when he says, "What am I going to do about you, Jared? Hmm?"

"Um. Well. More of that would be nice," Jared says. He smiles and smooths his hands over Jensen's back.

Jensen dips his head until it rests on Jared's shoulder; his body is slack and hot. And he laughs.

________

Jared works most Saturdays. He goes to his parents at least one night a week for a home-cooked meal. He teases his sister and shoots hoops with his brother; he has a small group of friends who haven't left town, or who have farms nearby, but their schedules don't match up and he doesn't see them often.

He owns his house, or the bank does. It's a fixer-upper he bought last year, but he doesn't have the time, or take the time, to fix it up like he should. Once a month or so, he goes to San Antonio. Few people know why. Katie does. His brother and sister know. His parents know, but they like to keep talk of that sort of thing pretty non-specific.

It's important to him that Jensen knows all of this. As mundane as it is, he wants Jensen to know all of him. And, slowly but surely, Jensen does.

Jensen's a harder case, more closed off than most, but they grew up in the same small town and live there still, and they both have the same weary affection for it, this home of theirs that's closing down bit by bit, job by job. This place that's still holding on, but barely, smaller and smaller every day as people give up and move on to something better, as each new generation puts it in the rearview mirror just a little faster. There's less and less to hold onto, unless you count the meth labs on the edge of town.

But that's not all that Jared knows of Jensen. He knows his biggest secret, and that's something. And he knows that Jensen's not as cranky as he lets on. Knows that Jensen, for all his intensity, likes to take it easy once he's made his mind up. Jensen's a great kisser, a great lay (all shaky and sweat-slick and warm) – at the shop after hours, in the back of a Ford F150 on display in the showroom, on Jared's couch, and in his bed. It's a better time than Jared has a right to.

He starts to have faith in the fact that Jensen's eyes go softer and his smile brighter when Jared walks into a room. Jensen likes Jared. Most people do, but when it hits him that Jensen does – likes his company, thinks of him fondly, really, really likes him – well, that's just a pretty big moment is all.

It's Jensen who knocks on his front door, eleven o'clock at night, and says, "Let's walk down to the river."

Jared, in his boxers and Spurs t-shirt, tries to act like he'd been awake but Jensen's looking at him like he knows better, reaches up a hand to push his fingers through Jared's hair, smoothing it back.

"Really?" Jared asks. "The river?"

He's already heading toward his room to change into some shorts, Jensen trailing behind.

"It'll be nice," Jensen says. "It's a pretty night. Moon's full."

"I'm not swimming in that," Jared says. "No fucking way. I'll go with you but I'm not dipping one toe into that dirty river."

"Pussy."

"Whatever, dude." Jared doesn't bother to look back as he steps into his room. "I've never been bitten by a snake and I don't plan to start now."

Jensen turns him around, hands on Jared's hips, and kisses him softly. "Get changed and we'll walk down there," he says. "You don't have to go in."

They kiss for a minute, nice and slow, sweet. "We could just stay here," Jared says hopefully. "Take a shower instead."

Jensen turns him back around, pushes him toward the dresser, and swats his ass. "River. Swimming. Now."

"Filthy water. Snakes. Gimme a minute."

They end up down at the river bank, behind a row of old houses. Jensen knows his way around there better than Jared does and he leads the way to a clearing that's hidden by a line of trees. It's a clear night and the moon is bright, like Jensen said, so they can see okay. Old beer cans and used condoms litter the ground.

"You're quite the romantic," Jared says.

Jensen smiles as he pulls off his t-shirt. It's damned distracting. "Can't say I never took you anywhere nice." He wades into the water and backs off to strip out of his shorts. He's totally naked and not the least bit shy about it. His body looks pale and perfect, haloed in the moonlight. "Water's warm," he calls back when he's knee deep in it.

"Yeah, I hear the snakes like it that way."

A little farther out, Jensen splashes down to tread water. Jared removes his t-shirt and stands at the river's edge. He has no intention of swimming in that muddy, brush-filled mess, but he's pretty sure Jensen'll swim back to him faster when he sees his bare chest. Maybe he is a coward when it comes to snakes, but Jared knows he looks good shirtless.

When Jensen's done swimming, they lie down together on a patch of grass underneath the bright, clear sky. Jensen leans over Jared and gets him nice and wet, droplets of river water passing from skin to skin, and Jared's body soaks it up, soaks Jensen up.

Jensen likes to touch. He's got great fingers, work-rough but gentle. He trails them over Jared's skin, likes to rub soft circles on his belly, slick them up and press them into Jared until Jared begs for more. Tonight, they roam and tease over Jared's body, trace lines over his hip bone, his collar bone, the bend of his elbow.

Before too long, Jared has to give in and insist that they return to his house for a shower and a bed. And maybe Jensen feels guilty for making him come out here, or for teasing him, or maybe he's just willing to take the path of least resistance, but he says yes, and they leave, walking much more quickly back home.

"Last time I swam in the river at night," Jensen says, "Clinton was President and I was high as a kite."

"There's probably one of your old beer cans back there," Jared says, looking around before he reaches out to lace their fingers together.

"Or one of my old condoms."

"I'm not going to ask." Jared wants to. Was it an old high school girlfriend or some other desperate and eager, and fearful, high school boy?

"We've got plenty of time," Jensen tells him. "No need to waste all our secrets right up front. Not tonight, anyway."

They're at the house and as Jared unlocks the door, arms looped around Jensen from behind, and walks him inside, he says, "No. This isn't a night for secrets."

"What's it for then?"

Jared's happy to show him. In the shower, on his knees, pushing Jensen back onto cotton sheets, hands everywhere, searching, surging into him, whispering – _Jensen, Jensen, Jensen_.

________

They leave Bluejacket behind them heading west early on a Friday. Arranging to take a week off together (but not 'together' as far as anyone else is concerned) wasn't as difficult as Jared had imagined. Jensen's a sly one so he came up with the plan. Jared scheduled his time off well in advance then Jensen claimed an emergency with his ex, up in Austin. Jim's not the type to press for details when it comes to something like that, so. It's done. They're driving to Las Vegas. Together. As a couple. It'll take two days to get there and two to get back. But that's the fun part as far as Jared's concerned. He loves a road trip and they're traveling through some beautiful country.

He's pretty stoked. "Woo-hoo!" He screams when they hit the I-10 and he pushes his '96 Bronco over the limit. "Vacation!"

Jensen just laughs – then laughs harder when Jared's pulled over for speeding about ten minutes later. Jared doesn't mind. He's up for anything. You don't get to be Salesman of the Month eleven months in a row without taking a few risks. You don't get to fuck Jensen Ackles at a suite in Las Vegas, overlooking bright neon lights and a world of sin below, if you're not willing to push eighty through a few Texas speed traps.

They get intense and stupid that night, in a flea-bag motel off the highway just northwest of Tucson. And, God, it's perfect. Jared doesn't think he'll ever get enough. Jensen goes for coffee in the morning before joining Jared to sit on a bluff that overlooks a crop of huge rising red rocks and the black asphalt highway that cuts through them like a blade. Everything seems to shimmer in the early morning haze.

There's a chill in the air, but Jared feels cozy in his thick, soft hoodie and Jensen presses in close for warmth. They drink their coffee in that slow stupid way they do first thing in the morning, so tired they'd be smarter to sink back into bed. It's vacation, so they could. But they want to get on the road, get in some Black Jack tonight, and go to one of the clubs where they can dance together. Jared wants to molest Jensen in public so bad it hurts; it may be the real reason for this whole ridiculous trip.

"I'm glad we did this," Jensen says. His voice is slow and thick with sleep. He's not watching the sun rise over the desert anymore.

"Yeah?" Jared's getting used to this Jensen now, the one who's up for anything, especially with Jared. And this vacation was a damn good idea.

He's got another good idea, too. Jensen doesn't know it yet, but as soon as the lease is up on his small apartment, he's moving in with Jared. They'll be roommates as far as anyone in town is concerned. Plenty of folks will figure out what that's code for, but it's a discrete enough situation that they can ignore it if they want to. And most won't think twice of it.

Richard will probably know and be a dick about it. Where Jensen's concerned, that seems to be his default position. Jensen's not sure, but he thinks Richard's had his suspicions about Jensen being gay since high school. It ate him up inside all those years that faggy Jensen was better looking, better at sports, that he had cooler friends. Jared decides to be magnanimous and feel sorry for the guy. Jensen truly couldn't care less. His ability to take what he needs and ignore the rest is one of his best qualities.

"Why do you stay?" Jensen asks, whisper-soft.

"Huh?"

"In Bluejacket," Jensen says. "It'd be so much easier somewhere else."

"Austin was easier, right?" Jared asks.

"Yeah, that's where I met Sophia." Jensen raises a hand to shade his eyes as the sunlight hits them.

"Must have been fun."

"A little too much fun."

He doesn't talk about Sophia much, but Jared gets the idea that she and Jensen knew all of each other's secrets and that they worked well together for a while. They still talk on the phone from time to time.

Jared went to school in San Antonio on the five year plan. He could have stayed there but he didn't. He's not sure why.

"I guess because my family is in Bluejacket," he finally says. "And…"

"And?"

"I like it."

Jared almost makes it a question. Does he like it? Yeah, he thinks he does. He likes Jim and Mrs. Roberts and Main Street. He likes the pace of it. Likes going through a day collecting, "Hey, Jared. How's it going? How are your folks?" from most everybody he sees. He likes that he met Jensen there when he was just a kid.

"I like it, too," Jensen says. But he sounds wistful, like he might want to leave it behind someday.

"You sure about that?"

Jensen twists to press his lips to Jared's and Jared loops an arm around him to hold him tight. "Probably not like you do," he says. "I'm there mostly for family, not that they need me, really. But it's okay."

"Why did you come back, then?" Jared asks. "Why do you stay?"

Jensen winks, but it's sort of caught in a squint against the sun so it's borderline ridiculous. "Just contrary, I guess," he says.

That Jared can believe.

Cars are starting to populate the road below as early morning travelers take off to explore the Arizona desert or head off for their own taste of public sin. Jensen kisses Jared's neck, his cheek, before Jared turns into it and kisses him back, slow and easy.

"Do you think you might want to leave someday?" He asks when they pull apart.

Jensen cuts his gaze away. "I don't know. I've thought about it plenty."

"Well," Jared tells him, "If you ever make up your mind, I hope you'll let me know."

Jensen looks back toward him, serious. "I won't decide without you, Jared."

"So it's like that, huh?"

"Yeah, it's like that."

A few hours later, they're on the road. Springsteen is playing and Jensen's singing along. He's a good singer but he's sloppy and loud in the car and when he gets to the chorus of _Hungry Heart_ , it's pretty brutal. Jared laughs for miles.

He figures one day they'll take off and never come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks again to greybhan311 for the beta.


End file.
